


Desert Island

by daddyoshie



Series: He's My Partner [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2019-2020 NHL Season, M/M, Sadness, Trades, Washington Capitals, marcus johansson does not actually appear in this fic, mentioned carlson/kempny, mentioned carlzer, no getting together in this fic, not yet at least, partners, they miss each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddyoshie/pseuds/daddyoshie
Summary: “You sound a little jealous there, Snarls. You miss me?”The question struck an emotional nerve. Yeah, of course he fucking did, but he wasn’t going to say that. The only way Dima would willingly get emotionally vulnerable was after about half a bottle of vodka.“NO, I don't, shut UP!”
Relationships: Marcus Johansson/Evgeny Kuznetsov, Matt Niskanen/Dmitry Orlov
Series: He's My Partner [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688689
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Desert Island

**Author's Note:**

> If no one else will write this pair, then I guess I'll have to do it myself. I've been working on this for awhile, so excited to get it out! I miss Nisky and I miss this pair :( check at the notes at the end for links to dima/nisky articles relevant to this fic
> 
> Note: Whenever Dima and Kuzy are talking please just imagine it's in Russian, and forgive me if my writing of a Russian accent isn't all that great.
> 
> Big thanks to Alex for the beta and for always being supportive
> 
> And a heads up: there will be a part two to this, coming soon!

Gudas was a fine defenseman. He was a fine partner. Physical, competent, perfectly suitable for everything he needed to do.

But he wasn’t Matt.

Sure, they played well together. Great, sometimes. And sometimes he didn’t even play with Gudas, but with Jensen or with John instead. And he played just fine with all of them. But he never had the snap that he did when he was playing alongside Matt. It was hard. Dima had finally found a partner who just meshed so well with him, who understood him, who believed in him. For three whole years, he had been able to have that luxury. Dima had been playing professional hockey for over a decade, and he had never had a partner as good for him as Matt. Not before, and not since.

It had been difficult when Matt was taken away. Dima understood, it was part of the business. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off about it.

He had had November 13th circled on his calendar since June.

* * *

Games against the Flyers were always a big deal, but at practice there was more buzz in the air than usual for this particular one. Most of the team was chattering about how it was Gudas’ big return to Philly. Would he get a tribute video, would the fans cheer, would Giroux slash him in the back of the knees, etcetera. But for Dima and a couple of others, it was more about the guy on the other side that they were about to see again.

“I heard Nisky’s growing his hair out long,” T.J. said, firing a puck past Ilya into the practice net.

“Ew, really?” John scrunched up his nose.

“Yeah, he wants to join the flow bros.”

“He should not do that. Long hair is not a good look on him. Those kids in Philly are a bad influence.”

“Hey, you don’t know, it could look great!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, he better be prepared to get chirped all game long.”

They went on for a little longer about what they were going to say to Matt when they saw him again, mainly concerning what they were going to chirp about. Kuzy circled around and skated over next to Dima, who had been on the edge of the fray listening in on the conversation.

Kuzy looked at him for a moment, as if he was actually thinking before speaking for once in his life, and then leaned over and started talking to him in Russian.

“You ready for the game?”

Dima set his jaw. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kuzy hesitated. “I mean, we’re facing Nisky for the first time since he left.”

“And?”

Kuzy threw his hands up. “Just asking! I know it was a bit hard for me, the first time we played Jojo, I just wanted to check in —”

Dima cut him off right there. “ _Unlike_ you and Jojo, I am not dating Nisky. And also unlike you, I did not cry when he got traded.”

Kuzy slashed Dima’s shins. “I came to you for _comfort_ in that moment and now here you are making _fun_ of me! I’m hurt, Dima.”

Dima continued on. “Therefore, I will be fine today. Because I am stronger than you.”

Kuzy shook his head. “And here I was trying to be a friend. Well, when you start to get sad later, don’t come to me to help you feel better.”

In response to that ridiculous implication, Dima shoved him.

* * *

Typically when they played an away game against a former teammate, they would get dinner in town the night before. But they didn’t head into Philly until the day of, so that wasn’t an option for them today, and they didn’t see Matt until thirty minutes before gametime at warmups.

Seeing Matt on the other end of the ice was weird, and Dima didn’t like it. And in that horrible bright orange, too. He should be in red, and he should be over here, warming up with Dima and chatting with everyone in that strange way he talked. He talked like an old American movie. Dima missed that. Gudas certainly didn’t talk like that. Jensen, despite being from the same area, did not talk like that either. But at least Gudas was interesting; Jensen was just _boring_. Matt could always make Dima laugh, even when he wasn’t trying to be funny. With the others, there was an understanding of what needed to happen on the ice. With Matt, there was an understanding of each other, one that cut much deeper than hockey sense. Dima was wondering if maybe they could turn that into telepathic communication as he watched Matt skate around on the Flyers side of the ice.

Finally, Matt spotted him, and he began to skate in his direction. Dima started skating as well, and they met each other at center ice. It had felt like forever since they had been able to be on the ice together, but being next to him was like being right back home again.

“Hey, Snarls,” Nisky greeted, a wide smile blossoming onto his face. “Long time no see, it’s nice to see ya.”

It was nice to hear _Snarls_ from his mouth again. Sure, everyone called him that, but no one said it quite like Matt. Dima suspected it was that backwoods Minnesota accent. Sometimes Dima wondered if Matt had just sprung from the woods of Minnesota fully grown, but that was a thought for another day.

“Nice to see you too, Nisky,” Dima greeted back. “Even though you in ugly jersey.”

Nisky laughed, looking down at the Flyers logo on his chest. “Yeah, orange might not be my color. But what can you do.”

 _Come back_ , Dima thought. But he didn’t say anything.

Luckily, Matt continued. “Give it to me straight, Snarls, ‘cause I know you will. You planning on hitting me tonight?”

Dima’s face split into a grin. “Remember what I did to Matt Duchene? You gonna _wish_ you were him.”

Matt laughed again, louder this time. It was almost like music. “I should be so honored to be launched into space by you.”

“I dare you to hit me back.”

“You know I’m going to, Snarls. It’s my job. And, you know, friendly competition, you know how it is.”

“This not friendly.”

Their shared laugh said otherwise. Dima missed this, just talking and joking with him. And the active encouragement of violence. With everyone else, it was always no, Dima, don’t go murder, people don’t like that, what about the penalties, etcetera. With Matt it was have fun murdering, do you need any help, just clean up when you’re done. They had always been on the same wavelength on the ice. And off, most of the time.

Then Dima heard Kuzy aggressively yelling at him in Russian, telling him to get over there and run passing drills.

Dima sighed. “Kuzya screaming at me,” he said to Matt.

Matt took a glance behind him at Kuzy. “Yeah, don’t want to keep him waiting, I’ve seen how cranky he can get.” He looked back at Dima. “We gotta take some time to catch up, some proper time.”

“For sure,” Dima replied. “Will keep in touch.”

As he began to skate away, he stopped and looked back. He gave Matt a quick once-over. “Osh and Carly right, you _are_ growing hair long.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Seems like word gets around quickly.” His hand went to the hair at his neck, pretending to fuss with it like Osh always did. “Tell me, does it at least look good?”

Dima gave him a smirk as he skated away. “No.”

The game was pretty tight, meaning that Dima didn’t have much time or energy to focus on anything other than the plays he was making on the ice. But after Leipsic scored, he was able to relax just a little bit.

It was then that he noticed who Matt was partnered with. About halfway through the period, Dima watched Matt climb over the bench, and it was Provorov who climbed on over with him. That wasn’t _surprising_ or anything; Provorov was one of their better defensemen, so of course they wanted Matt to play with him. It was just who he was specifically that made Dima’s gut twist so tight. It reminded Dima so much of himself, and his exact circumstances, that he couldn’t help but feel...replaced. And yeah, he knew it was part of the business and everything, but he didn’t like that at all.

Later in the game, Dima was on the ice when the officials all went to look at the review for something stupid, either offsides or placement of a faceoff or something. Regardless, it was lengthy, and they were standing around for a long time. This also just happened to be one of the times he was out on the ice at the same time as Matt, who took the opportunity of the break to skate on over to him and chat.

“So, you’re partnered with Gudas?” Matt asked. Seems like he’d also been using his skills of observation. “You replaced me with the guy I got traded for.” There was a playful edge in his voice.

“Well you play with Provorov.” He forced a playful smirk onto his face. “Just love playing with Russian number nines, no?”

Matt leaned on his stick. “I guess I have a type.” There was a wickedly mischievous glimmer in his eye. “What, are you upset about it?”

“No,” Dima responded, even as a twist in his gut told him that wasn’t quite true. “You just replaced me with a worse version of myself.”

“You sound a little jealous there, Snarls. You miss me?”

The question struck an emotional nerve. Yeah, of course he fucking did, but he wasn’t going to _say_ that. The only way Dima would willingly get emotionally vulnerable was after about half a bottle of vodka.

“NO, I _don’t_ , shut up!”

Dima aggressively skated away, spraying snow on Matt’s boots. Fortunately for him, the officials got over themselves and finally set up the faceoff, so Dima didn’t have to chat anymore.

 _Un_ fortunately for him, their conversation was not quite over just yet. They had yet another quick stoppage while on the ice together later in the period, though not nearly as long. Dima wasn’t exactly interested in talking, but Matt wasn’t done.

“You know,” Matt said, lining up just a couple feet away. “I’d still bring you to a desert island with me, Snarls.”

Dima tried to push away all the twisted-up feelings rising from his gut. “Yeah well I’m still bringing NO ONE because I HATE EVERYONE and I have NO FEELINGS and I am not hurt AT ALL.”

A world of confusion spread across Matt’s face, and Dima hated himself for letting even an inkling of feelings leak out. He quickly stripped the puck from Provorov as retaliation. That felt satisfying, at least.

The real hurt didn’t happen until the next period. Dima had finally calmed himself, told himself to just get a grip, that he was just getting heated in the middle of a game and that his feelings about losing Matt and whatever relationship they’d had were getting blown out of proportion, and he wasn’t feeling as hurt he was making himself out to be.

Then from his perch on the bench, he watched as Matt, on the ice, glanced at Provorov, and with all the comfort and familiarity Dima knew so well, shouted “Snarls!” at him before realizing his mistake.

And if Dima didn’t know better, he would have said that he felt his heart break into pieces.

He didn’t get his hit until the third period. Matt was handling the puck in the neutral zone, and Dima lined him up for a crunching hip check. It wasn’t quite a Duchene-level hit, but it earned a hearty roar of approval from the Caps bench.

It didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as Dima had thought it would.

* * *

They didn’t usually stay in the same city after they had already played the game, but they’d gotten in that same morning, and it was Philly, they could get home in the morning in no time; this was just one of those weird circumstances. So Dima was lying in his bed, staring at the hotel ceiling, a couple hours after they had beaten the Flyers in the shootout. His mind was swirling, but it wasn’t the game that was keeping him awake.

He missed Matt. He really didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he missed him so much. Not just the little things here or there, but all of him. He’d been more than just a partner to him. He had become a very, very close friend. Not only had the trade ripped away the best partner he’d ever had, and probably _would_ ever have, it had ripped away a friend. Seeing him again had been nice, of course, but it had hurt. Just a painful reminder that he was still around, but Dima wasn’t allowed to play with him anymore. Someone incredibly important to him was just gone, like that. And it sucked.

The worst part? Matt clearly still cared. He still thought about him — that accidental shouting of “Snarls” told him as much. His new partner was a shitty carbon copy of himself, and yeah, it hurt like hell to see, and it sure as hell felt like he was being replaced or something, but it meant Matt still cared. And Dima noticed the way Matt had been going back and forth with him — it had been a long time since they had joked that intensely. Maybe Matt still cared past the extent of hockey or even friendship. But at this point, they’d never know. Maybe if he was still here, they could have known.

No offense to any of the new defensemen, and he would _never_ say this out loud, but none of them were as good as Matt. He wanted him back. If you put a gun to Dima’s head and asked him if he would undo the trade, if he would send away a current teammate and bring back the old one, no matter the repercussions, he would say yes. In a heartbeat.

All this, but when he had actually talked to Matt today he had acted like a dick. The joking was fun, but the second it had gotten just a tiny bit emotional, Dima had panicked. Matt didn’t deserve to be snapped at like that. Matt deserved...honesty.

His heart hurt. He ached emotionally, and all he could think about was that he needed to talk to Matt. He felt a pressing urge to go find him and talk to him, right now.

And then he thought, why not? He knew his address, and they were in town all night. Why not go do this right this second?

So before the urge had the chance to leave him, he sprung out of bed, grabbed his phone and wallet, and walked out his hotel room door. He was doing this now. But he wasn’t going to do this alone; because he _couldn’t_ do this alone. He walked a couple doors down and pounded his fist heavily on the door, hoping that he would survive the endless chirping that was inevitably coming his way.

An incredibly cranky Kuzy opened the door.

“The fuck you want, Dima?” He yawned. “It’s late.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Put your shoes on.”

Kuzy groaned but complied, slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing his wallet before joining Dima out in the hallway.

“Where?” Kuzy asked as they made their way to the elevator.

“We’re taking an Uber to Nisky’s house. I have to talk to him.”

“And why do you need _me_ there? I’m not driving, sounds like a trip you could take yourself.”

Dima hesitated. “Emotional support.” Kuzy burst into a wide grin. “And SHUT UP,” he cut Kuzy off before he even began. He hoped his glare of murder was enough of a threat to ward off even the thought of chirping, and they waited in silence for the Uber outside the front of the hotel. Neither of them said a word for the entire ride over there, either, not until the car pulled up in front of Matt’s house.

“Wait in the car,” he told Kuzy.

“What?” Kuzy questioned. “You brought me out here just to sit here?”

“Yes.”

“The meter’s running.”

“I won’t be long.” Truly, he didn’t plan on saying more words than necessary.

Kuzy scoffed. “Whatever, you’re paying.” He shoved Dima. “Get on out there.”

He walked up the driveway to Matt’s front door, his hand freezing before reaching the doorbell. He felt a clump of worry in his stomach. Could he really do this? Could he stand here in the cold after midnight and talk about _feelings_? At this point, it didn’t matter. He _had_ to.

He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

He heard some shuffling and other noises indicating someone was moving about. Then a light flicked on inside, and the front door unlatched and swung open, revealing a sleepy-looking, barefoot, surprised Matt on the other side.

“Snarls?”

“I have things to say,” Dima started loudly and pointedly, his tone asking Matt to stay quiet and let him speak. Thankfully Matt seemed to understand, not saying anything and patiently waiting for him to continue.

Dima took a deep breath. Putting together exactly what he wanted to say to him, especially in English, was extremely difficult. He had a lot of gross and complex feelings swirling through him, and he wanted to express that eloquently with all the nuance he was feeling. If he went too fast, the words would feel all knotted on his tongue and come out all clunky, and he didn’t want that. He had to concentrate very hard and say exactly what he needed to say. This was too important.

“I do miss you,” he said. “You gone, and it fucking sucks. We play really well together, and none of these guys fit me like you do. It’s fine, but it’s not the same. You believe in me, even when no one else do. You help me a lot, and help make me into who I am. Wish you could come back somehow, hate not having you with us. With me. I _really_ hate that you play for stupid fucking Philly. I hate it. Hate seeing you here, hate you not being around, and I…” Before he could stop himself, he threw his arms around Matt, pulling him into a tight hug. “Miss you a lot,” he finished, his voice almost a whisper.

Without any hesitation, Matt hugged him right back, his arms squeezing him tight. “I miss you too, Snarls,” he said. “You’re one of a kind. And none of these guys are as funny as you. And they don’t chirp me back, either. They think I’m too old. Or they’re scared of me.”

“You _are_ old.”

“The word is _veteran_ , and I think that word now applies to you, too, so maybe come down off your high horse.”

“I don’t ride horses.”

Matt laughed, drawing out of the hug. “See, I miss that. Provy doesn’t joke with me like that.”

Dima twisted up his face, an action that was not missed by Matt. He raised an eyebrow.

“So you _are_ jealous?”

“Of _course_ I am!” Dima said, the passion rising to his chest. “You play with another Russian defenseman, who is also number nine, who plays like me, who you also trying to teach to be better. I am being replaced! How do you think that makes me feel?”

Matt looked at him, his gaze softening ever so slightly. “I could never replace you, Snarls.”

Dima suddenly felt a huge pang in his heart. He could feel tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, and he rapidly blinked them back. He would _not_ let Matt see him cry. Getting this emotionally vulnerable was more than enough. “Me neither,” he said.

“And if we’re being honest,” Matt continued, “seeing you skate with the guy I got traded for feels crummy, too.”

Dima crossed his arms over his chest. “They all shitty options,” he mumbled. “And pairs never stay together, anyway. The lovebirds Carly and Kemps always together except for like, power play, but everyone else rotates. I never have consistent partner. I miss that.”

“We were very lucky to have a good couple years there. Not everyone is able to have a partner like that, sometimes ever, and not for that long.”

“Then why Carly get _two_ partners that stick with him forever?”

“That bastard is an outlier and should not be counted. Not to mention he’s been deeply in love with both of them, which is for sure a factor. I had to actually ask permission to be Karl’s friend when I was paired with him for that stretch.”

Dima tried to push away all thoughts of defense partners and love that were rising in his brain. “I remember that. Glad you make the right choice and come to me.”

“Best lineup decision that’s ever been made for me.”

Dima cracked a little smile. “Wish you could come back somehow. I would pick you over any of these losers.”

Matt broke out into a grin. “Does this mean you’ve finally changed your mind about picking me as your desert island partner?”

Dima rolled his eyes dramatically, but he couldn’t help but smile as well. “Yes, I would take you to desert island. Unlike everyone else, you are useful. And better than having no one.”

Matt beamed. “That might be the best compliment you’ve ever given me.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, the silence stretching between them. There was something left unsaid in the air, something that Dima could have addressed, if he wanted to poke the bear and go down that rabbit hole. But he didn’t. For now, he’d leave it unsaid. It was time for him to go.

“It’s late,” he said. “I should not keep Kuzy waiting that much longer.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You brought Kuzy with you? And made him wait in the car?”

“Yeah. He owed me.”

Matt chuckled. “Well, then, I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll see you again when you guys come to Philly in January, yeah?”

“For sure,” Dima said. “You owe us all dinner.”

“I’ll take you all to Pat’s, get you some cheesesteaks.”

“Isn’t there one called Geno’s?”

“On principle, G has banned us from going to any place with the same name as Evgeni Malkin.”

“Fair. But it better be good.”

Dima brought him into one more hug and held him tight, this time a knot forming in his chest when he realized he probably wouldn’t be able to talk to him again for awhile. Fuck, he didn’t want to leave him. He felt that unsaid feeling floating around again, lurking in the back of his mind. He tried to push it away.

“I will miss you,” he said.

“I’ll miss you too, Snarls,” Matt replied. He squeezed him once and then pulled away. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Dima nodded. “Okay.”

Then he left Matt’s doorstep, got back in the car, and crossed his arms tightly over his chest as the Uber driver began to drive away. Ultimately, Dima felt better having done that; he had needed to be honest and divulge a little bit of emotion with him. But his heart still ached as he watched Matt through his window, his figure receding as they moved further and further away.

When he could no longer see him, Dima wrenched his eyes away from the window and sighed. Kuzy looked at him with a smug grin on his face.

“I’m never gonna forget the day that Dmitry Orlov of all people went out of his way to show up at someone’s door and tell him about his feelings.”

Dima whipped his head around and glared at him. “For all the times I listened while you cried over Jojo, and all the times I covered your ass when you ran off to New Jersey, you owe me. So shut up.”

Kuzy sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “At least yours is only in Philly,” he grumbled. “Do you know how much further away Buffalo is? At least three times as far.”

“How many times do I have to tell you our situations are not the same?”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“ _I_ have never made out in the back corner of the locker room.”

“‘Cause Nisky never asked.”

Dima felt himself turn deep red. Just the _thought_ of that made the back of his neck go hot. That would have never happened. Nope…never.

Kuzy, an idiot, continued talking. “Surprised you didn’t kiss him right there on the doorstep. We could go back, if you want.”

Dima set his jaw and narrowed his eyes at him. “If you want your nose to stay unbroken, you will shut up right now and never speak of this again.”

Kuzy, wisely, stopped talking. Instead, an incredibly smug look settled in on his face, which just infuriated Dima. Grumbling, Dima turned to look out the window and ignored him the rest of the ride back to the hotel.

He wished life didn’t have to be so cruel. He wished Matt didn’t have to be in Philadelphia. He wanted to play with his partner that he fit with like a puzzle piece, with whom he’d grown so comfortable over the years. They’d always been an unlikely pair, what with them coming from such different backgrounds, but it worked. It was rare to find someone you just clicked with like that. He wished Matt were still with them, he wanted to skate in tandem with him again. And maybe, just maybe, if they’d had more time, they could have explored to see if there was a deeper part of their relationship to dig into.

He wondered how scratchy Matt’s beard would be.

**Author's Note:**

> The origin of the desert island joke: https://twitter.com/NBCSCapitals/status/1060199042116923393  
> An article from before they got paired together that said Niskanen could be a great partner for Orlov: https://russianmachineneverbreaks.com/2016/09/06/matt-niskanen-could-be-a-great-defensive-partner-for-dmitry-orlov/  
> Nisky speaking very highly of Dima at length: https://www.nbcsports.com/washington/washington-capitals/facing-restricted-free-agency-again-dmitry-orlov-much-better-position-year-ago  
> Dima talking about losing Nisky in this rinkside update from the 2019 preseason: https://www.nhl.com/capitals/video/rinkside-update--dmitry-orlov/t-282755870/c-68948403  
> Nisky saying that hopefully he can develop some chemistry with Provorov like he did with Orlov: https://www.mcall.com/sports/phantoms-flyers/mc-spt-flyers-sunday-20190916-vn2h6omuojfylprpkquknteply-story.html
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @daddyoshie


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